The Heart Never Lies
by purplepagoda
Summary: She wakes up, with a man. She has no idea why he's there, or what happened with him, the night before. She tries not to let her mind run wild, but sometimes waking up is the hardest thing to do, when it's your partner who's in bed with you.
1. The Heart Never Lies

She begins to wake up. Not ready to be awake she keeps her eyes closed tightly. She feels her surroundings, instead. The side of her face is pressed up against warm cotton. For a moment she assumes that it is her pillow case, but when it rises, and falls she realizes it is not. She listens to the noises in the room. She hears breathing, other than her own. Her ear is pressed up against someone's chest. She listens as his heart beats steadily. Her arm is draped limply across his torso. She lies diagonally in her bed, or what she assumes to be her bed.

How did he get here? Who was she? Did she dare open her eyes and look. She utilizes her other senses. Smell, he smells of body wash. She places her other hand on his chest. She comes to the conclusion that he is wearing a v-neck t-shirt. In the space between the v-neck of the shirt she feels hair. Suddenly an overwhelming thought pops into her head. Hairy-butt. She cannot push the thought out of her mind.

How had he ended up in bed with her? Had something happened between them? She realizes that she is fully clothed. T-shirt, underwear, flannel pajama bottoms, and one sock. She feels heavy covers covering the lower half of her body. She listens to him breathe. The back of her head is pointed towards her face. Maybe if she opened her eyes it wouldn't be as bad of a scenario, as the one she had created in her mind. Maybe she was mistaken, in assuming whose chest she was laying on.

Why couldn't she remember anything? She ignores the thought, and opens her eyes. Her eyes scan the room, without her moving her head in the slightest. The scenario before her, it was worse than she had imagined. This was not her bed. This was not her room. This was someone else's apartment, someone else's room, someone else's bed. This was not good. The fact that she had no recollection of how she got there, that was worse. The last thing she remembered was crawling into bed, her bed. At 2202 she had crawled into her bed, alone.

Now it was morning, the sun was not up yet, but she knew that it soon would be. She discerns this from the amount of light coming in from the window. How had she gotten here? Whose bed was she in? If her gut was right, this was a very bad situation. She swallows hard, wondering if she can leave, without him noticing. She wonders if she can slip out unnoticed? Maybe he didn't even know that she was there. Maybe it wasn't who she thought it was. Maybe it was a random stranger. That would not be much better, but at least it would be less awkward.

"I see that you're awake," his familiar voice startles her.

She uses her palms, and pushes herself off his chest. She rolls onto her back. Her head lands on a pillow. She stares at him in embarrassment, and confusion.

"Do you want to tell me what you're doing here?"

"I thought that you might be able to fill in the blanks," she admits.

"You don't know why you're here?"

"No," she shakes her head shamefully.

"That makes two of us."

"Did we..."

"No."

"How did I get here?"

"I would prefer not to think about it."

"Why?"

"You showed up here just after eleven. I think that you were sleep walking."

"You think? How did I get in here? Did you let me in?"

"I did not let you in. How you got in remains a mystery."

"I just walked right in?"

"I don't know. You could have crawled in. I didn't know that you were even here, until you were standing in the doorway."

"Of the bedroom?"

"Yes. I had just gotten in bed, and I heard footsteps. I rolled over and saw you."

"What did I say?"

"You didn't say anything. I asked you what you were doing here, and you just climbed into bed with me."

"Did I..."

"You didn't try anything. You just cuddled up with me."

"I am so sorry. I cannot believe this happened. It is unprofessional. I crossed the line."

"But why?"

"Why did I cross the line?"

"Why did you come here?"

"I do not know."

"Why were you sleep walking?"

"I have been having trouble sleeping lately. Last night I was exhausted, so I took a sleeping pill."

"Why?"

"I just told you."

"No, why haven't you been sleeping?"

"I have a hard time falling asleep, because I know that if I fall asleep I will start to dream, and I cannot control my dreams."

"Dreams or nightmares?"

"It is kind of like the same film, being played, over, and over again, in my head, except it isn't fiction."

He slides out of bed, and moves towards the window. She sits up in his bed, leaning against the headboard, crossing her legs in front of her.

"You drove here," he reveals.

"How do you know?"

"You are parked in front of the building. I can see your car from here. You are a scary enough driver as it is, I hate to think about you driving in your sleep."

"Why didn't you try waking me up?"

"You crawled in bed, and within a minute you were sound asleep. You were snoring, and drooling, all over me."

"I do not snore."

"And pigs don't oink," he retorts.

"I definitely do not drool."

He turns around. He points to his shirt. She inspects the spot.

"Ok, maybe I drool," she concedes.

"You should probably head home, so you can get dressed, if you want to make it to work on time."

"Yeah, I should get going," she agrees.

"Ziva," he calls to her as she gets out of his bed.

She looks at him as he stares out the window.

"Yeah?"

"You talk in your sleep, too," he tells her.

She bites her bottom lip. "What did I say?"

"Does it matter? It can stay between us. All of this can stay between us."

"I am completely mortified. I do not know what would possess me to break in to your apartment, and crawl in to bed with you, in my sleep."

"I do."

"You do?"

He turns around, and looks at her. He smiles, "Yeah, but I am not going to tell you, because you'll punch me, hard."

"Fine," she turns to leave.

"Ziva?"

"Yes Tony?"

"You slept like a baby last night."

"What is your point?" she asks from the doorway.

"You didn't bring your gun with you, so you must have felt safe."

"I always feel safe with you," she admits.

"If you need to sleep with me, to get a good night's rest, I can take one for the team. I prefer a well rested Ziva, to a sleep deprived one."

"And why is that?"

"Your fuse is much shorter when you are tired."

"This is not ok," she tells him.

"Neither is what you told me in your sleep."

"What did I tell you?"

"I won't repeat it."

"A clue?"

He smiles, "You never lie, in your sleep."

With that she leaves. On her way down the stairs she realizes that she has no idea where her car keys are, or why she is wearing only one sock, and no shoes. She steps onto the sidewalk, the cold sends shivers up her spine. She jaunts to the car. She pulls the driver's side door open, thankful that is unlocked. She slides into her seat, and closes the door. She looks around for the keys. She finds them under the mat.


	2. Talking In Your Sleep

He doesn't mention it to her during work, which she finds odd. The day goes unusually smoothly. It passes by quickly, even though she finds herself caught up in thoughts about him, several times. When she gets home she makes a beeline for the shower. After a hot shower she pulls on pajamas, and rolls into her bed.

He lies in his bed, wide awake. He looks at the clock, 10:28 it reads. He laces his hands behind his head. He ponders why she came to him, in her sleep. Of anyone she could go to, she came to him. That wasn't what troubled him most, though. It was what she admitted in her sleep that had his head spinning.

_He watches her as she sleeps. She had been in his bed, with him for ten minutes, and already she was drooling. She begins to talk, in what he assumes to be Hebrew. He loved the sound of her voice. It was one of the reasons he was drawn to her, from the first time they met. The cadence of her voice makes him sleepy. He pulls the covers over them, and closes his eyes. He listens to her as she babbles on._

_"I locked the door," she mumbles._

_"Good to know," he can't help respond, even though he knows that she is asleep._

_"The alarm is off," she adds._

_"Where is your gun?" he prompts her._

_"In bed," she answers._

_"In bed? You have it with you? Where is your gun, you never sleep without it."_

_She doesn't reply. _

_He clarifies, "Your sig, where is your sig?"_

_"In the drawer," she responds._

_"Anything else I should know? Any thing you want to admit, in your sleep?"_

_"Tony..."_

_"Yes Ziva, it's me."_

_"I love you."_

_"What?"_

_She doesn't say another word, the rest of the night._

As she lies in her bed with her eyes closed she thinks of her elevator ride, with Tony, as they were leaving for the night.

_He stares at her. She ignores him. _

_"How often do you sleep walk?"_

_"Not as much as I used to. It was much worse when I was a child. I should have known better than to take a medication that has that side effect."_

_"You slept walked as a child?"_

_"My mother had to lock me in my room."_

_"It was that bad?"_

_"When I was twelve I woke up in the middle of the night, and started throwing knives at the kitchen wall."_

_"Did you have guns lying around?"_

_"No, luckily my sister was able to wake me up, before I threw one at my mother."_

_"There is a way to wake you up?"_

_"Of course."_

_"Don't you think that is information you should share?"_

_"Not with you," she quips._

_"Just in case?"_

_"I do not think you will have to worry about repeating last night."_

_"Just humor me. Do I need to shake you? Trip you?"_

_"Whatever you do, do not touch me. My reflexes kick in, and it can be deadly."_

_"You have killed in your sleep before?"_

_"I was on a mission, I was frustrated that my mark would not talk. He woke up with me pointing a gun to his head. He touched me, and I shot him."_

_"What am I supposed to do? Is there some sort of trick? Is there a special dance, or a clap?"_

_"No."_

_"Is there something I can say?"_

_"Fire."_

_"Fire? Why fire?"_

_"I do not know. Reflexes, I guess."_

_"Are you sure that will work?"_

_"If not there is one other thing you might try."_

_"What is that?"_

_"Zahar."_

_"Former lover?"_

_"My first love," she admits._

_"What what he like?" Tony probes._

_"He was beautiful. He was black, with dark eyes, and a long mane, and tail, and four legs."_

_"A horse?"_

_She smiles, "Yes, a horse."_

_"Your first love was a horse?"_

_"I was eight," she clarifies._

_"You certainly are full of surprises."_

He is nearly asleep when he hears his door close. He immediately returns to consciousness. He watches the doorway. A familiar figure moves towards him. He listens to her rhythmic footsteps.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters under his breath.

She continues towards him.

"Ziva? Are you asleep?"

She doesn't answer him. She climbs into the bed with him. This time she does not lay down next to him. She climbs on top of him. She straddles him. He looks at her. His first instinct is to push her off, ok, second instinct. He ignores his instinct, and tries to recall what he had told him earlier. Her hand presses against his torso. It begins trailing down his body.

"Ziva what are you doing?" he questions.

She doesn't answer him. Her hand continues to move. It stops at the waistband, on his boxers. Why had he not worn more clothing to bed? He knew that she might show up again. Not that he had expected this, but.. he tries to maintain his composure. She tugs at his waistband.

"Fire!" he says loudly.

She remains intent on what she's doing. His brain tells him to grab her wrist. His thoughts are muddled, and he finds it difficult to recall what to tell her. He takes a deep breathe. His eyes nearly roll back in his head, as she moves dangerously close to her intended target. A picture pops into his head. A horse, a black horse. An Arabian horse.

"Zahar!" he shouts.

He feels her muscles relax. He turns on the lamp. She blinks. She stares at him, blankly.


	3. I Can't Sleep

"Why are you here, again?"

"I do not know."

"I think that you are trying to seduce me."

"What makes you think that?" she stares into his sleepy green eyes.

"Look where your hand is."

Her glance falls. She immediately pulls her hand back.

"Not to mention that you are straddling me," he adds.

She rolls off him. "I am so sorry. I do not know what is going on. It is obvious that I cannot take sleeping pills, bad things happen."

"Yeah, I'll say. Your unconscious desires are going to put us out of a job."

"Unconscious desires? What is that supposed to mean?"

"You tried to have sex with me, in your sleep? That means nothing to you?"

"I..." she stammers.

"You are crazy."

"Did I tell you that I wanted to have sex with you?"

"I deduced that, from your actions."

"So what did I say to you last night? You were awfully quiet today, as if you did not whatever I told you to slip out."

"It was not appropriate to reveal at work, not that it is appropriate for you to be in bed with me, fondling me, attempting to..."

"Move on," she warns.

"You should know that this is one area, where you are better at restraining yourself, than I am."

"Tony what did I say?"

"I think you should stop with the sleeping pills. How many are you taking?"

"Just one. I only have enough to last a week."

"Flush them."

"Gladly," she agrees.

"If you need to sleep, just stay here. Save everyone the trouble. I wouldn't want you to run over some pedestrian, when you are in your car, driving in your sleep."

"What did I say?"

"The same thing you said in Paris."

"Well that really clears things up," she replies sarcastically, "Oh... wait, you didn't tell me what I told you then, either."

"I don't think that you are ready to handle what you said."

"I said it, didn't I?"

"Yes, but if you were ready, you would say it, when you're awake."

"What could I have possibly said, that would make this situation any worse."

"Can I ask you something, first?"

"I think that since I am in your bed, and..." she trails off, "I think that you have earned the right to ask me a question," she finishes.

"Do you want to have sex with me? I am asking this out of curiosity, not because of my ego," he inquires.

She stares at him, trying to gauge his readiness for the answer. She pushes stray hairs out of her face.

"Well," he gesticulates.

"I will not deny that I have wondered, what it would be like."

"Ziva, that doesn't answer my question. If you honestly, answer my question, I will answer yours."

"I just tried to... in my sleep."

"So the answer is?"

"Yes," she huffs.

"Yes?"

"Yes I want to have sex with you."

"Why?"

"So I can stop wondering, what it will be like. I have gone through a thousand different scenarios in my head, and I am curious about which one is right."

"Was this one of them?"

"No," she admits, "I know that it is not professional, to fantasize about your co-worker but ever since we went undercover..."

"You can't get the images out of your mind?"

"I have tried, but I cannot wash my mind out with soap. I do not think that it is advisable to scrub my eyeballs, not that it would help any."

"Interesting."

"What did I tell you?"

"Something that is even more interesting. I would like to be in your head, just for one day."

"Why?"

"So I can see all of your fantasies about me."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think that all of them are about sex."

"The other day you wouldn't shut up, and I fantasized about flinging a paperclip at you."

"That is normal."

"In my fantasy it killed you."

"You are a piece of work."

"If I had my gun right now, I would shoot you," she admits.

He smirks. She scowls. She thinks of another way to torture him. He has no time to react. Suddenly she is on top of him again. There is no where for him to go, no way for him to hide. She pulls up his shirt, exposing his abdomen. Her fingers lightly graze his skin. He winces. Her fingers start just above his navel, but they slowly trail down his abdomen. He watches her in determination. Her fingers linger, just above his pelvis. She runs her fingers across his skin, just above his waistband, in a horizontal movement.

Her eyes lock on to him. He swallows hard.

"Please stop," he begs.

"Tell me!" she demands.

"Stop, and I'll tell you."

"I do not believe you."

"If you... keep going I won't be able to tell you," he warns.

She leans back, taking her hands off of him.

He finally takes a breath. He stares at her, unsure where to begin. She lunges forward. Before he can blink her face is next to his. Her mouth grazes her ear.

"Tell me," she whispers.


	4. The Heart Won't Lie

He gently pushes her away. She stares at him in disbelief.

He exhales, and finally he reveals the secret, "You told me that..." he pauses.

"That what?"

"Are you sure that you really want to know?"

"Yes, tell me."

"You're positive?"

"Why are you stalling?"

"If I tell you, it opens a whole new can of worms."

"Apparently it is a good night for opening new cans of worms."

"Are you sure?"

"Tony," she raises her voice, "Just tell me!"

"It changes things."

"What did I say? Why do you have that look on your face?"

"That deer in the headlights look?"

"That is not what this look is."

"What is it, then?"

"Fear."

"Fear? Of what?"

"That you're going to physically harm me, when I tell you."

"Enough! Tell me!"

"You told me that you love me," he blurts out.

She stares at him, in shock. "Oh," she doesn't deny it.

"Oh? I thought that you would deny it, tell me that I must have heard wrong."

"Is that what you want?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Is it what you want?" he counters.

"I asked you first," she points out.

"No," he admits.

"No?"

"It's out there now. You can't put the genie back in the bottle."

"What are you saying?"

"The heart wants, what the heart wants."

"We have discussed this before."

"We didn't really discuss it. You discussed it. You are the one who made that decision. It doesn't make it any less true. The heart wants, what the heart wants."

"But it shouldn't."

"But it does," he argues

"I want a lot of things, but that does not mean that I am going to get them."

"What do you want, right now?"

"I want to be done talking about this."

"And do what, exactly?"

"Be one of your meaningless one night stands."

"No."

"No? I am propositioning you, and you are turning me down? I never thought that I would live to see the day that you turn down a woman who wants to have sex with you. I guess that hell must have just frozen over."

"Let's get things straight."

"What things?"

"One, you could never be a one night stand."

"And two?"

"It would never be meaningless, not with you."

She furrows her brow. "I am never taking another sleeping pill, ever again, as long as I live."

"You should know, the heart won't lie."

"The heart won't lie? Where did you get that, from one of your movies?"

He smirks, "It is a country song."

She kisses him, to get him to shut up. She feels the hormones, rushing to her brain. He feels sparks flying. His lips melt, against hers. He knows that there is no stopping her. He wonders, if she'll be gone when he wakes up. She senses his hesitation, and comes up for air.

She looks at him in confusion. "Is there a problem?"

"Are you going to be gone? When I wake up?"

"I do not cuddle," she replies.

"What do you call what you were doing last night?"

"Who are you? The Tony I know would be jumping at the chance to have sex right now, but you are worried about whether or not I am going to cuddle? Since when do you cuddle?"

"Since a crazy ninja chick hijacked my bed," he retorts.

"You are serious?"

"What about rule twelve?"

"Who said anything about dating?"

"And rule number one? Never screw your partner?"

"It's never screw over your partner," she clarifies.

"It is the same."

"If you do not want to do this I will go."

"I do."

"Ok."

"But you better be here, when I wake up," he warns.

"Fine," she huffs, "Can..."

He doesn't allow her to finish her thought. He presses his lips against hers. After several moments she comes up for air.

"What?"

"Your neighbors," she tries to catch her breath, "they are sound sleepers?"

"That apartment," he points to the wall behind him, "Is empty right now."

"And the other neighbors?"

"How loud are we talking?"

"They will hear at the Chrysler Building."

"You are aware the Chrysler Building is in New York?"

"I am very good with geography," she reminds him.

"Obviously, you drive your car to my house, in your sleep."

"Are we going to talk, all night?"

He grins. He shakes his head. She kisses his neck.

"You want to be on top?" he questions.

She leans back, and smiles devilishly. She leans forward. He feels her warm breath against his ear. He feels his heart skip a beat, in anticipation. She runs her fingers through his hair. Finally she answers, "I always come out on top."


	5. It's Your Call

When she wakes up she is lying on top of him. This time she is not wearing any clothes, neither of them are. Her back is exposed. A sheet covers her lower half. Her chin rests on her hands. Her hands rest on his chest. She stares at him, as he snores. He had been truthful, the neighbors were sound sleepers, that was certain.

Normally when she first woke up she felt the need to go for a run, immediately. She does not feel the urge to go for a run. Instead she stares at her partner. She realizes that the sun is illuminating the room. The overhead light had not been on. The lamp, that was another story. She knew that the lamp was lying, broken on the floor. Why was the sun so bright, so early? What time was it? She searches for the alarm clock. She peers over the edge of the bed. She identifies the alarm clock as another casualty. She reaches for Tony's phone, which miraculously is still on the bedside stand. She flips it open, and stares at the time. She tosses the phone onto the bed, beside Tony.

"Wake up!"

"Go back to sleep," he mumbles.

"Get up, or we're going to be late for work."

"What time is it?"

"Ten til seven."

"We won't start until eight."

"We have another sexual harassment meeting this morning, it starts at seven," she reveals as she slips out of bed. She picks her clothes up off the floor. She studies the floor, and then pulls all the covers off the bed.

"I am up," he insists.

She rolls her eyes. This was not going to be a good day. She would be doing a walk of shame. There was no way that she could get back to her apartment, get dressed, and arrive at NCIS in ten minutes. She was fast, but not that fast. She surveys the room, and is struck by what she does not see. She ignores her thoughts, and rushes out of the apartment. In her car she finds a change of clothes in her bag. She grabs the clothes, and races back up the stairs, into the apartment. She finds Tony in the shower. She peels off he clothes, and jumps in with him.

"I'll be quick."

"We don't have time," she answers sharply.

"I meant about the shower," he clarifies. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"You put it there."

He hands her a wash cloth, and a bar of soap, "Here."

She forgoes the hair washing. They quickly shower, and get dressed. He hands her a tooth brush.

"You have extra toothbrushes?" she questions as she peels open the package.

"Less talking, more hurrying."

He grabs his door key on the way out.

"You're driving," he announces, tossing her the keys.

They arrive at NCIS at twenty after seven. They jump off the elevator, and head up the stairs. They do not reach the first landing, before seeing Gibbs. He and McGee walks towards them.

"Get your stuff we've got a dead Marine."

They turn around, sighing in relief. They grab their bags, and join him on the elevator. He hands Tim the car keys. Ziva stands on one side of the elevator, and Tony stands on the other. McGee, and Gibbs stand behind them. Gibbs takes half a step forward. He stands between them, smacking both of them, on the back to the head. Tony turns and looks at him.

"What was that for?"

"Being late, among other things," Gibbs reveals.

"Among other things, what other things?" Tony questions.

"Breaking the rules."

"We did not break any rules," Ziva clarifies.

"If you didn't break any rules then the two of you had better adhere to rule number seven," he adds.

"Yes, boss," Tony agrees.

"Isn't rule number eighteen a loophole for breaking rules, boss?" McGee enters the conversation.

"Whose side are you on?" Gibbs turns around and looks at McGee as the elevator doors open.

"It was a question. I wasn't trying to help them out."

Gibbs holds out his hand, palm up. Ziva, and Tony step off the elevator. McGee drops the keys into his hands. When they reach the car Ziva, and Tony toss their things in the trunk. Ziva quickly claims the front seat. Tony climbs into the back. Gibbs arrives at the car, and shakes his head.

"No, try again. People who arrive late to work do not get to chose their seats. Ziver, you're in the back with Tony."

Ziva gets out of the front seat, and crawls into the back seat. She buckles her seat belt, and crosses her arms, like a pouty child.

"Oh, and no touching. And if either of you open your mouths before we reach the scene, you will be riding back with Ducky," Gibbs adds as he turns on the car.

"But..." DiNozzo begins to argue.

"In a body bag," Gibbs reveals.

The two of them shoot each other dirty looks the entire car ride. Fifteen minutes out of D.C. Gibbs looks in the rearview mirror, and finds Ziva's head pressed up against the window. She begins to snore. He smiles, devilishly, and slams on the breaks. She flies forward, and hits her head on the back of the seat. She looks at him.

"I'm awake."

"Stay that way. Or you can clean the car when we're done. We are going to be walking in the woods, in the mud," Gibbs smiles.

"Understood," she nods.

"Boss?"

"Yes McGee?"

"It's too quiet. I have gotten used to their constant bickering. The silence throws me off."

"So turn on the radio," he suggests.

McGee flips on the radio.

Ten minutes later they arrive at the scene. The instant the car stops Tony, and Ziva are jumping out. They move to the trunk, to gather their belongings.

"I can't believe you," he glowers.

"I am not speaking to you."

"You have to, I am your partner."

"That does not mean I have to talk to you," she argues.

Gibbs whistles. They look up at him. "If the two of you are going to act like eight year olds, I will treat you like eight year olds."


	6. What Do You Say?

She opens the door, and finds him standing before her. She lets him in. He places take out bags on the coffee table. He hands her a DVD. She looks at him, in confusion.

"What's this?"

"I thought we could watch a movie, and have some dinner," he answers.

"Oh."

"You sound disappointed."

"No."

"You are. What did I do? You had plans? I can go. I shouldn't just come over unannounced."

"Slow down," she warns.

"I shouldn't be doing this, should I? I'll go."

"I guess I just had other plans."

"Then I'll go."

"No. I meant I had other plans in mind, for us."

"Oh."

"But we can watch a movie instead."

"Instead of what?"

"You'll never know, now."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know."

She feigns innocence, "Do I?"

"You obviously were expecting me."

"What makes you think that?"

"You usually answer the door like that?"

"In my robe? No people usually don't stop by at ten o'clock at night, when I have to go to work the next morning."

"The night is young," he argues.

"We still have work tomorrow."

"I set the alarm on my phone."

"So did you come here, with expectations?"

"I was expecting to eat take out, and watch a movie with you. I figured that we'd fall asleep on the couch during the movie. That was my expectation."

"I see."

"Did you have different expectations?"

"I think we should work on our communication."

"Why is that?"

"I want one thing, and you want something else. We need to get on the same page."

"I agree."

"So what do we do? Stand here and discuss it, or choose one?"

"I don't know," he shrugs.

"You should make up your mind."

"Why is that?"

"If you want to watch a movie, I will go put some clothes on."

"Put clothes on? Aren't you wearing clothes under that robe?"

"Clothes? Under my robe?"

"A bra and panties?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I just thought... what are you wearing under there?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he gulps.

"So have you changed your mind."

"What were your plans for us?"

"It would require a hire rating than that movie."

"Maybe I brought porn."

"Even you aren't that presumptuous."

"I didn't bring porn..."

"Obviously."

"So what is it that you want to do, exactly?"

"We'll just watch a movie," she sighs.

"Are you sure?"

She smiles. She turns around, and starts towards her room. She stops several steps away from him.

"I guess I'll just go put some clothes on."

She takes another step. He calls out, "I don't believe you."

"About what?" she turns to face him, "That I am going to put some clothes on?"

"That you aren't wearing any."

"What a shame."

"What a shame? Why is that a shame?"

"You're wrong."

"You'll never prove it by me," he argues.

She laughs, and continues towards the bedroom. The robe falls to the floor. He watches her naked figure disappear into the bedroom.

"Can I change my mind?" he yells after her.

"That depends on what you want to do?"

"I had considered a nice movie, or a brisk walk in the park."

"Oh really?"

"Maybe a jog around the block."

"Because you jog," she teases.

"But I am sure that I can come up with something better."

"I would hope so. When did you become so boring?"

"Not boring, I was just trying not to be forward."

"You thought that after making us late for work I would be made at you?"

"Yeah, maybe a little."

"Who says I'm not? Maybe this is punishment."

"I might have believed that before, but you wouldn't use sex as punishment."

"Who said that we're going to have sex tonight? Maybe I just wanted to get you all hot and bothered, and then leave you hanging."

"Yes, you might do something like that."

"So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"Like I said I considered the options."

"And?"

"Does it always have to be about sex with you?"

"No. Do you think I'm going to be disappointed if we don't have sex?"

"You seem like you might."

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"Tonight I'm loving you."

"You're quoting lyrics to a song? You should be more original than that."

"What else do you want me to say?"

"Just say what's on your mind."

"Did it ever occur to you, that I might want more than just sex?"

"Did it ever occur to you, that this might be a test?"


	7. For Herself

She comes out of her bedroom in pajamas.

"Why would you want to test me?"

"Do you have to know the reasoning behind why I do everything?"

"No, just this."

"You don't want to know," she reveals.

"Sure I do."

"No, trust me, you don't."

"Why not?"

"We'll discuss it, later."

"Why later?"

"Because I said so."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Ziva?"

"Huh?"

"Sit down."

"Do we have to watch a movie?"

"No, but what else are we going to do?"

"We could go to bed."

"Go to bed? As in go..."

She finishes the sentence, "To sleep."

"You're ready to go to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You really want to go to sleep?"

"Yes," she nods.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"I don't know if I can lay in bed next to you, after last night, and not want to..."

"You don't know if you can control yourself?"

"I can't make any promises.

"Then don't."

Four weeks later he finds himself waking up in her bed, again. He rolls over, and looks at the clock, and makes a realization that it is Saturday. He rolls over, and finds that she isn't in the bed with him. He finds a note on his bedside stand.

_Tony,_

_Went for a run._

_Ziva_

It was short, sweet and to the point. That is how she always was. He looks at the clock. 0715. She was usually back from her run by now. Ziva was a creature of habit, in many ways. Her routine had been tweaked to include him, but not that much. Lately they had been spending all of their time together. At work. During meals. They slept in the same bed nearly every night.

Neither of them really discussed what it was they were doing. There was no label, no clear definition of expectations. They enjoyed spending time together. The sex was incredible. He enjoyed her cooking. She enjoyed watching movies with him. The bottom line was that they enjoyed each other's company, and they didn't need any definitions. It was what it was, and that was fine by them.

Neither of them had brought up the issue of being exclusive, yet neither of them had seen anyone else. Not that either of them had the time to. They had both been careful, not to be late for work anymore. His dresser had a drawer full of her clothes. Her closet had a few hangers dedicated to him. His bathroom had a pink toothbrush, one he had purchased for her. Her bathroom had his toothbrush, and a bottle of his mouthwash.

His car had her phone charger, and hers had his. Somehow, by some miracle, Gibbs had not found out. Not that either of them acted any differently at work. At work they were Tony, and Ziva, NCIS agents, partners.

He rolls over onto her pillow. He smells the scent of her shampoo. He smiles. He loved the way that she smelled. He loved the way that she let him sleep in on their days off. He sits up, and rubs his eyes. He tosses the covers off himself, and climbs out of bed, wearing only his boxer shorts. He heads into the bathroom.

She wasn't the only one with a ritual. His morning ritual always went as followed: pee, shower, dry hair, brush teeth, shave, clean off the counter, floss, swish. After all of that she was usually back from her run. He climbs out of the shower and grabs his towel He continues through his routine, until he gets to the flossing. He flosses, and pulls out the trash can, from under the sink. He drops the floss into it. He notices something that doesn't belong. He hears the door close.

"Ziva?"

"Yes?" she replies from the kitchen as she grabs a bottle of water."Can you come in here, please?"

"I don't need to watch you floss."

"Just come in here for a second," he digs the box out of the trash.

She approaches the doorway. "What?" she questions.

He holds up the box. "Something you want to tell me?"

"Do you remember when I told you that I was testing you?"

"Yes."

"I think now would be a good time to tell you why."

"In order to avoid answering me?"

"No, this leads into that," she points at the box.

"Ok," he nods, "Go ahead."

"I have done a lot of reckless things in my life."

"Yes, and?"

"There are some things that I would never even consider doing."

"Like having sex with your partner?" he furrows his brow in confusion.

"We have done that."

"So why exactly were you testing me? And what does that have to do with this?"

"I...when I met you I wasn't an investigator. Now I am."

"And?"

"The first time... that morning... as I was frantically collecting my clothes... I noticed that something was missing."

"Missing? What was missing?"

"You don't know?" she scowls.

He shakes his head, "I wouldn't be asking, if I did."


	8. The Missing Pieces

"There was no..." she trails off she focuses on the box he's holding.

He snaps his fingers, "There was no what?"

"No used condom," she answers.

"Oh. I'm sure that we..."

"I don't think so."

"Obviously."

"I've never done that before. I have never needed one of those before," she points at the box.

He flips the box upside down. Nothing falls out.

"There is nothing in here."

"No."

"Something you don't want me to know?"

"I..."

"Are you pregnant?"

"I just took the test to be on the safe side."

"So you don't suspect that you are?"

"I didn't," she responds.

"What did you mean you didn't? Did this test tell you otherwise? Where is the test?"

"In the dumpster behind the building."

"Why?"

"Because I was... I went for a run, and when I got downstairs I realized that I still had it in my hand, so I tossed it in the dumpster."

"You are not absent minded. You were frazzled. Which means you were preoccupied. Which means that you found out something you didn't want to find out."

"Stop! Calm down, take a breath."

"Ziva just tell me, are you pregnant, or not?"

"You answer my questions first," she counters.

"What questions?"

"What would happen if I was?"

"You are?"

"We are speaking hypothetically."

"What do you mean what would happen?"

"What would you say?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," she shrugs.

"I guess that I would tell you that it is your decision to do whatever you want to do."

"You would say that, but you wouldn't mean it."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Because you don't want a baby. You don't want to be saddled with a kid. You don't want to have to explain to Gibbs how I ended up pregnant with your child. You don't want to be tied to me forever. You are not ready to be a parent."

"I see why your run took so long this morning."

"I may have gotten distracted by my train of thought, and taken a longer route than I intended."

"That isn't why I wouldn't mean it," he reveals.

"Really?"

"I know that it is your decision, but..."

"But?"

"It's your body, your life, but... I wouldn't want you to do it."

"Do what? Have it?"

"Not have it."

"You think that I wouldn't have it?"

"I don't know. Would you?"

"I had never really given it any thought, until recently."

"And?"

"I would do it, without you."

"Have an abortion?"

"Have the baby. I would raise it on my own, if that's what I had to do."

"Oh. So are you pregnant?"

She looks at him with tear filled eyes. She purses her lips, and shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know."

"You don't know? I thought that you took the test. You didn't take the test? You were too scared?"

"No. I took the test."

"So how can you not know?"

"It was inconclusive."

"Oh, I see."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She stares into his eyes. He stares back. Her forehead wrinkles, as she tries discern what he's thinking. Finally she speaks, in an attempt to clarify things.

"What do you mean for what? I might be pregnant."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about. It's not something that you did, on your own."

"No, it's not."

Without another word he moves forward closing the gap between them. He wraps his arms around her. She hugs him back. She buries her head in his shoulder. The tears fall, when she can fight them no longer.

"You're scared?" he wonders.

"You're not?"

"It's ok to be scared," he reassures her.

"I am terrified. This is not the end of the world, but I just feel like..."

"You can't breathe?"

"Yes."

"Maybe if you walked me through it, it would help."

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me exactly what it is that is terrifying you."

"I am afraid of losing you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now but..."

"Have I left you yet?"

"No, but..."

"I am not going to leave you. You are not going to lose me. I'm here for better or worse, in whatever way I can be."

"I'm afraid that if I am..."

He lets go of her, allows a few inches of space between them. She stares at the tile floor. He tips her chin up, towards him.

"If you are, what?"

"I won't be good enough."

"Good enough? Ziva what are you talking about?"

"That I won't do a good enough job of..."

"You would."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"But..."

"Why don't we go find out for sure?"


	9. With A Little Help From My Friends

"It's Saturday, how are we going to find out for sure? A lab won't have a blood sample processed until Monday. I doubt that another home pregnancy test is going to be any more conclusive."

"Maybe..."

"It won't," she argues.

"How do you know?"

"Because I have taken one every day for the last week."

"Why am I just now finding out?"

"I wanted to know one way or another, before I told you."

"Why didn't you go to a doctor?"

"I did.""

"Oh, and?"

"The test was inconclusive. I am scheduled for another blood test on Monday."

"There was no blood drive on Wednesday?"

"Nope."

"I should have known. I spend every waking moment with you. I should have known that you were lying. What did you do with all the other tests?"

"Took them to the dumpster on my way out for my run."

"You should have told me."

"What are we going to do?"

"I think we need to call in a favor."

"From who?"

"I think that you know."

"If you are suggesting prayer, I have already tried."

He smirks, "No, not prayer."

"Then what?"

"We need to call Abby."

"Abby? No. We can't call her."

"Why not?"

"She won't be able to keep it a secret."

"Can you really wait until Monday?"

"No."

"I'll call her, and have us meet her in the lab."

"Ok."

An hour later they find themselves in Abby's lab. As they get of the elevator, and wander into her lab they find her waiting. She stares at them in dissatisfaction. She leans up against the counter, next to her computer, with her arms crossed.

"Whatever it is had better be good. The two of you are really going to owe me for this."

"We'll name our first born after you," Tony pledges.

Ziva shoots him a look of bewilderment. Abby rolls her eyes, "Very funny. Now what do you need?"

Tony holds up a bag of blood.

"You brought me a bag of blood?"

"We stopped by at the Red Cross, on the way over."

"You are supposed to donate blood, not steal it," she scolds.

"Special circumstances."

"Whose blood is it? Is it for a case?"

"No. It's not for a case."

"Whose blood is it?"

There is a moment of silence. Abby's expression grows angrier by the second. Finally Ziva answers, "Mine."

"Yours? What do you want me to do with your blood?"

Tony answers quickly, "You can't tell Gibbs. No signing, or Morse Code. You can't send him an Email, or a text, no smoke signals. You can't write him a letter, or mime it to him. Are we clear?"

"What did the two of you do?" Abby wonders.

"It's a funny story actually," Tony admits.

"She does not need to know the story," Ziva censures.

"Right," he holds out the bag of blood, "Just work your magic."

"My magic? What am I doing to it?"

"Testing it," Tony replies.

"For what? Drugs, alcohol, toxins, the plague..." she begins rambling.

Tony shakes his head, "No, think simpler."

"What could be more simple?"

"What would send us into a panic, that would make us call you in on a Saturday, begging for a favor, and swear you to secrecy?" Tony quizzes.

"You promised to name your first born after me. But you said 'our', referring to the both of you. You've got to be kidding me. The two of you really don't know better? You are two perfectly capable, competent adults. You're partners, and you should not have to worry about that, at least not together. The two of you have crossed a line."

"Abby will you just run the test?" Ziva begs.

"Yes," she agrees.

"How long will it take?"

"By the time you go get me a caf-pow, and come back I'll be done."

"Ok," they agree.

They return to the lab with a caf-pow. Abby leans against the lab table, waiting on them.

"So how do the two of you want this to turn out?"

They look at each other, and then at her. She clarifies, "That way I will know if I'm giving you good news, or bad news."

"We just want to know one way or another."

"The two of you look scared out of your minds," she comments.

"Wouldn't you be?" Ziva inquires.

"Yes. I probably would be. I mean he's your partner, and Gibbs is your boss, and he has a rule against this kind of thing. If you are then he'll definitely find out, and if you're not he still might find out. I would be scared too."

"Abby just tell us! I need to know!" Ziva insists.

"You certainly are impatient today."

"Why do you say that?"

"It took you less than ten minutes to go get my caf-pow, which means that you drove, Ziva. It usually takes at least twelve minutes, in no traffic."

"Abby, just tell us!" Tony insists.

She smiles, "Sorry... but I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"You guys didn't take long enough. The test isn't done yet."

"I thought that it was simple test," Ziva argues.


	10. In The Perfect World

"It is, but I wanted to be thorough."

"How long does it take? Why is it so complicated?"

"There is a fine line between positive and negative. It doesn't take a whole lot to be positive, but..."

"But what?"

"You're somewhere on the line," Abby admits.

"On the line, what does that mean? That is what they told me on Wednesday."

"You had a test done on Wednesday? What were your levels?"

"Exactly five. She said that was inconclusive."

"It is. How long ago did..."

"It happened four weeks, and four days ago," Ziva recalls.

"I see," Abby runs the math in her head.

The computer dings. They all look up. Abby breaks the silence that surrounds them.

"Negative," she reveals.

Tony looks at Ziva in relief. She avoids his glance. They leave the lab. He takes her home. She doesn't make a sound, the entire car ride home. When he pulls into a parking spot, he kills the engine. She reaches for the door handle.

"Wait," he insists.

For the first time in twenty minutes she looks at him. "Wait? What am I waiting on?"

"You're being too quiet."

"Don't do this, not now. I just want to be alone, right now."

"No."

"No?"

"Ziva, look at me."

She exhales, and looks over at him. Her eyes stare into his.

"Are you happy now?" she questions.

"No," he shakes his head.

"Why not?"

"Because that isn't the look I expected to see, in your eyes," he admits.

"What look?" she inquires.

"The look of disappointment."

"I'm not..."

"Don't lie to me. You are disappointed."

"So what if I am?"

"Ziva stop blocking me out. Let me in. Tell me what's going on inside your head right now. I want to know."

"It's stupid."

"Let me be the judge of that."

"I don't think I can do this, "she reveals.

"Do what?"

"Whatever it is that we are doing. I just cannot do it, anymore. There is too much at stake. We have too much to lose. I just..."

"Talk to me. Tell me why."

"You wouldn't understand."

"No, I won't, if you never tell me. If you never explain it to me, how am I ever going to understand. Why do you look so disappointed?"

She shrugs, "I guess that I am disappointed."

"But why?"

"You clearly do not understand."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You said you would want me to have the baby, if I was pregnant. But it isn't true. I saw the look. You were relieved when Abby said that I wasn't pregnant."

"Not for the reasons you think."

"What was your reason, then?"

"Neither of us are ready to have a baby."

"Maybe not."

"If you believe that, then why are you disappointed?"

"I guess that I..." she trails off. She purses her lips. She shakes her head. She looks out her window, trying to avoid his glance. Her hands rest on her lap. He takes the keys out of the ignition, and tosses them into the cup holder. He places his hand over hers. He squeezes gently. She turns her head, and tries to read the look in his eyes. "I like the idea, as crazy as it seemed."

"I know."

"You know?"

"You liked the idea of having something of your own. Having someone that belonged to you, that can't be taken away. You liked the idea of getting the chance to make up, for all the mistakes that you made. I understand that."

"It isn't just that."

"What did I miss?"

"I liked the idea, of having a baby, with you."

"Why? I'm immature, and annoying, and..."

"You are all of those things, and a list of others."

"So why would you like that idea?"

"You are the only person in my entire life, who I truly believe, when you tell me things. I guess that I liked the idea, because you are the only person I've ever met, that I'd be willing to have a child with."

"There are far more suitable candidates."

"I am sure that there are."

"So why me?"

"I trust you. With my life. You have proven that you will always have my back. How many people can really say that they have someone in their life, that would be willing to do anything for them? I can say that."

He smiles, and nods, "Yes, you can. I would do anything for you."

"But why? What did I deserve, to earn that?"

"You were just you."

"That isn't good enough," she argues.

"It is for me."

"Why did you look so relieved, when Abby told us that the test was negative?"

"The timing was wrong. Timing is everything. I want to give my child all of the things that I never had. I want my child to have a mother, and a father. I want him to know that his parents love him. That her parents love each other. I want my child to have two parents who are committed to each other. Two parents who are prepared for a child, and not blindsided by an unplanned pregnancy. I didn't want to bring a baby into this, right now."

"What do you mean?"

"We have no definition. We don't talk about what it is that we're doing. We live in two separate apartments. We live to separate lives. How would a child fit into that, right now? It wouldn't. If we ended up together people would always wonder if it was because of the baby. They would always assume that it was."


	11. One Thing

"It wouldn't be?"

"I would never be with you, or anyone, just because she was having my baby. That isn't a good enough reason. I want to be with someone, because I love them."

"So now what? We go our separate ways?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Tony, what do you want?"

"I want you."

"Excuse me?"

"I want you," he repeats.

"You want me?"

"Yes," he nods.

"No, you don't," she argues.

"That is another reason that I was relieved you're not pregnant. It gives us time to figure out who we are, and where we stand, before we drag an innocent bystander, into the situation."

"You know that I never expected a relationship out of this."

"You don't want one?"

"That isn't what I said."

"So do you, or not?"

"We're partners," she reminds him.

"I know."

"And Gibbs would not like it."

"I don't care."

"I will try to push you away, and shut you out."

"You always have. Have you been successful, with that?"

"No, not really."

"It's your move," he tells her.

"It works when there is no definition, but if there is a definition, will it?"

"I don't know. The only thing we can do is try."

"And if it turns out terribly?"

"We'll always have a funny story to tell."

"We work together. Everyday. We depend on each other."

"I guess that means we just have to make it work."

"I guess."

"So, Ziva, tell me what it is that you want, exactly."

"I want you."

"That's my line."

"What I want, is simple. I do not have some grand picture made up in my mind. What I want is not complicated, and it doesn't require a whole lot from you," she prefaces.

"So tell me, what do you want?"

"I want to go to sleep every night, knowing that I'm going to wake up next to you. I want to wake up with you every morning, and know that no matter what the day brings, when I go to sleep, it will be next to you."

"Done," he smiles.

"Done?"

"Yes. I can do that."

"So if you're going to be with other women, it will..."

He cuts her off, "You don't have to worry about that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to be with other women. Do you want to be with other men?"

"No."

"And if you did, you would tell me?"

"Yes, you would do the same?"

"Yes."

"How do we handle Gibbs?" she wonders.

"I think we should just tell him, up front."

"You are going to tell him?"

"No, I thought that you would."

"Why?"

"Because you're scarier than I am."

"Why don't we tell him, together?"

"We could do that," he agrees.

"Ok."

"Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"If you want a baby, we can work on that, when the time is right."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to have a baby?"

"Yes," she admits.

"With me?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Now is not the time."

"I agree."

"When the time is right..."

She cuts him off, "What if it's never right?"

"Good point. Once we have settled into this relationship. When we know who we are, and where we stand, and we're comfortable with that. Then, we can work on a baby."

"Do you really mean that?"

He smirks, "Who else is crazy enough to want to have a child with me?"

"I don't see anyone lining up," she retorts.

"Exactly."

"Are you sure about this?"

"About us? Or about the baby?"

"Either, both."

"I'm certain of one thing."

"What is that?"

"I would do anything in the world that I possibly could, to make you happy."

"Why?"

"Stop asking why."

"I have a hard time understanding things, when I cannot know why."

He pushes her hair behind her shoulder. His palm cups her face.

"Because I love you," he reveals, "and that is the only reason that I need. Now do you understand?"

She smiles, "Yes."


	12. Safe In The Arms Of Love

She rolls over, and finds that once again she is not in her own bed. Had she come home with him? She must have, right? He feels her shifting, under his arm. He opens his eyes, and looks at her. He had not fallen asleep with her in his bed.

"Really?" he questions, groggily.

"What?"

He peels back the covers, for her to see. She looks down, and realizes that she is wearing shoes. She kicks them off, onto the floor. He pulls the covers back over them.

"You have to stop doing this. Do you know how dangerous it is?"

"Yes. I know. I am driving in my sleep."

"You aren't that good of a driver, to begin with," he adds.

"Can we go back to sleep now?"

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"We make a choice."

"A choice? What choice?"

"Pick an apartment."

"What?"

"Where do you want to stay?"

"I want to stay in my own bed."

"That is where I left you. I left you in your own apartment. You said you were going to take a shower, and go to bed."

"Except, I am here."

"Exactly."

"I guess that I just want to be wherever you are."

"Your apartment or mine?"

"What?"

"Are we going to be together, in your apartment, or mine?"

"What are you suggesting."

"That we move in together, so you do not kill someone, when you are driving, in your sleep."

"I don't know why this is happening."

"Because you're on drugs."

"I'm not. I have not taken anything."

"So no sleeping pills?"

She shakes her head.

"You do this when you're under stress."

"What stress? I am not under an unusual stress."

"We're not having a baby," he reminds her.

"That is not causing me stress."

"Then what is causing you stress?"

"What if this doesn't work out?"

"Then we'll probably have difficulty explaining to other people why you wake up in my bed."

"Be serious."

"It will work."

"How do you know?"

"Because I love you."

"That is not always enough."

"It has to be."

"What if..."

"It's too late to play the what if game. Just go to sleep."

"But..." she begins to argue.

He kisses her forehead, "Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight."

She presses her head against his chest. She takes a deep breath. She inhales the scent of his soap. She closes her eyes, and allows herself to relax, in his arms. She exhales.

"I love you," she whispers, before she drifts to sleep.

When she wakes up the second time, the sun is out. She finds herself alone, in bed. She wonders if it was all a dream? She feels the emptiness filling the space next to her. She opens her eyes, and finds that she's still in his bedroom. It was real. All of this was real. She looks around the room, and listens. She doesn't hear him in the bathroom. She notices that the door to the bedroom is shut.

"Tony?" she calls out.

She hears footsteps. The door opens, and his head pops in.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing out there?"

"I am making breakfast. I didn't want to wake you, until it was finished."

"You made me breakfast?"

"I did."

"Are you sick?"

"No, I'm just trying to be sweet."

"I see."

"You know, breakfast could wait."

"It could," she agrees.

"I mean we could warm it up, later. I'm not that hungry, right now, anyway."

"You probably already ate."

"I'll never tell."

"I can tell."

"How is that?"

She presses her finger, to his bare chest.

"Because you're sticky, from the syrup."

"I knew I was forgetting something."

"What's that?"

"My bib."

"You joke, but it is true."

"You know what else is true?"

"Hm?"

"You look good in your pajamas."

She looks down. She studies her outfit, and blushes. One of his button ups, tucked, into a pair of grey pajama bottoms, complete with one white sock, and one black sock.

"Is that what you wore to bed, the first time?" he wonders.

She thinks back. She shakes her head. "I wasn't wearing anything."

"Obviously you knew that if you came over here, in your sleep, someone might see you. So you got dressed, in whatever you could find."

"Clearly."

"How is it that you haven't gotten any tickets for running a red light, or side swiping a parked car, yet?"

"Maybe I'm a better driver than you think I am."

"Maybe you're a better driver in your sleep."

"There is less traffic on the road at three am."

"You didn't get here, until after four."

"How can you be sure, of that?"

"I heard you come in."

"Did I break in, again?"

"No, this time you used the key under the mat."

"Oh."

"Ziva?"

"Huh?"

"I think that it's time you go see a doctor about this."

"It's harmless."

"Until you run over someone in your sleep."


End file.
